Death and Immortality--A Batman Shadow Tarzan crossover
by kalel21
Summary: Fu Manchu's latest plan brings him to the attention of three of the world's greatest heroes. But can even Batman, the Shadow and the Lord of the Jungle stop the world's most dangerous criminal mastermind?
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

July 26, 1939

He was tall for a Chinese, slightly over six feet in height. Even seated in the decorative chair set on a dais at the end of a long, narrow room, he seemed to tower over everyone else. He was dressed in the ornate robes of a Mandarin nobleman. A spider monkey sat perched on his left shoulder and he would occasionally reach up to caress its chin or belly with a long fingernail. A small brazier filled with burning incense stood at his right, trickling a thin stream of scented smoke into the air.

His eyes seemed to glow slightly with a perverse mixture of age-old wisdom and age-old evil.

The man approaching him, walking past the quartet of Mongol guards armed with both ancient swords and modern pistols, was also Chinese, though dressed in the suit and tie of a Western businessman. This second man stopped a few feet short of the dais and bowed low. He straightened again, but kept his head down, staring at the marble floor.

"You have news, Chang?" asked the seated man.

"I do, lord," replied Chang. "The madman has been recaptured and returned to the asylum outside Gotham City. His laboratory was destroyed in the battle that preceded his capture."

The seated man frowned. As if sensing his displeasure, the spider monkey began to chatter loudly. The man raised his left hand—the monkey immediately quieted down.

"Was anything salvageable from the remains of the laboratory?"

"I fear not, lord."

The frown deepened. Chang stood quietly, head still bowed, waiting.

After perhaps a minute of silence, the seated man spoke again. "What became of the corpses, Chang? The victims of the madman's recent rampage?"

Chang answered promptly. He knew his master did not punish the bearer of bad tidings. He only punished those who failed him. Chang's job was gathering information and he was always very thorough. He had seen the consequences of failure.

"The asylum guard was buried eight days ago in a Gotham cemetery," he said. "The owner of the flower shop was cremated at his family's request five days ago. Of the two policemen, one was also buried in Gotham City, four days ago. The body of the other has still not been recovered from the river."

The master considered this information carefully. The asylum guard had been strangled, but the remaining victims had been murdered with the madman's bizarre poison. The master briefly considered kidnapping the madman and interrogating him regarding the poison's exact chemical make-up, but he knew it was notoriously hard to extract reliable information from the insane. Since the opportunity to obtain a direct sample of the poison has apparently been lost, that left just one viable option.

"Chang," he said, "we will obtain the body of the slain policeman and transport it immediately to my facility in New York City."

Chang bowed low again. "The will of Fu Manchu shall be done."

Fu Manchu reached up to again stroke his pet's furry belly as he mentally reviewed his latest scheme in its entirety. He lacked but two ingredients to complete an experiment that would endow him with unlimited power. A team of specially trained men were even now at work obtaining one of these ingredients—a sample of the fluid that composed the Lazarus Pit. The second ingredient was a small amount of a unique poison created by a criminal madman who most often resided in Gotham City. Fu Manchu was determined to either acquire this poison or, falling that, to deduce its composition by studying the remains of one of its victims. In either case, he would get what he wanted.


	2. Chapter 1

CHAPTER I

It wasn't a school night, so DickGrayson could stay out later than usual fighting crime.

Actually, he was kind of hoping he wouldn't actually run into any crime tonight. He was enjoying himself too much, swinging from rooftop to rooftop, the cool night air whipping past him, feeling so good after the blistering heat of the midsummer day. Not many other thirteen-year-olds got to do stuff like this.

He landed on the ninth floor ledge of a twelve-story building, his circus training allowing him to maintain his balance without conscious thought as—with a flick of his wrist—he freed the batarang at the end of his rope from the edge of the building's roof. Coiling up the rope, he threw the batarang again, hooking it to another building top halfway down the street. He launched himself off the ledge, felt the rope go taunt, shifted his body weight to control his direction. He barely suppressed an urge to yell with delight. Batman was always stressing the need for silence.

Boy, this was fun! He struck the side of the next building with extended feet, jerked the rope free and kicked out into space. He threw the rope again while sailing over the street, hooked a flag pole and turned a seemingly suicidal plunge into another long swing up Gotham's Third Avenue.

Someone on the street saw him and pointed up excitedly. Whether he remained silent or shouted at the top of his lungs, Robin's red and yellow costume was a lot more visible than Batman's dark, frightening suit.

He shifted his weight, turning off Third onto Dixon Street. To his right was St. Catherine's Church. He was nearly past when he noticed the light glowing faintly in the graveyard behind the church.

Probably nothing, he thought. But he decided to check it out anyway. It was just past 11:00 and he couldn't think who might have business in a graveyard at this hour.

He changed direction again, swinging lower and lower until he landed softly on the sidewalk just outside the graveyard. He coiled the rope and attached it to his belt.

The gate was closed. Robin quickly scaled the low wall that surrounded the yard. Keeping to the shadows, he quietly approached the light.

Maybe grave robbers? he thought. But robbing what? Hugo Strange might have some weird experiment with corpses in mind, but he was supposed to be dead. The Monk was dead as well, though he would have been more likely to be sleeping in a grave than digging one up.

And someone was indeed digging up a grave. Working in the light of a flickering oil lamp, two burly Oriental men had just put down their shovels and were manhandling a coffin out of its supposedly final resting place. One of the men stood in the grave itself, pushing the coffin up, while his companion stood at the edge and pulled.

Both men were armed—foot-long daggers of an ornate design were sheathed at their hips.

Robin had no idea what their motives might be, but he was willing to bet next week's allowance and the latest issue of "Marvel Comics" that it was a nefarious one. He was only about ten feet away from them, crouching behind a tree. He leaped up, grabbing a thick branch. He quickly swung himself around in a complete arc, once, then twice, building up momentum. Then, at exactly the right moment, he let himself go.

The men had looked over when they heard something moving around in the tree, but couldn't see clearly through the thick leaves. Without further warning, a small human figure dressed in bright primary colors came sailing feet-first out of the foliage, heading right at them.

Robin slammed into the man standing at the edge of the grave, his right foot connecting directly with the man's chin. Robin used the force of the impact to turn his dive into a flip and land on his feet several yards past the grave.

His victim grunted and fell, releasing his grip on the coffin. As Robin has planned, the coffin tumbled back into the grave.

Robin had been hoping the other guy would be caught under the weight of the coffin, but the Oriental moved with an agility that belied his bulk. Dodging the coffin, he vaulted out of the grave, drawing his knife as he confronted the young crime fighter.

Robin snatched a batarang from his utility belt and snap-threw it. It clanged against the Oriental's knife, knocking the weapon free and sending it spinning off into the night.

Robin had followed behind the batarang, taking four quick steps forward, then launching a spin-kick intended to connect with the man's jaw and drop him down next to his unconscious partner.

But the man raised his left arm, blocking the kick. He lashed out with his right arm. Robin dodged the blow, but just barely. He nearly stumbled, turned the stumble into a cartwheel, and regained his feet, resuming a fighting stance.

The man had drawn a second knife from a hidden sheath in his boot. He advanced on Robin, slashing and stabbing repeatedly. Robin backed away, dodging the blade, waiting for an opening. When it came, he counterattacked with a kick that once again disarmed his opponent.

He followed the kick with a judo chop aimed at the man's neck. But the Oriental caught Robin's arm and hauled, sending him flying towards the open grave.

Robin managed to twist away from the grave in mid-flight. He landed heavily on his shoulder, but rolled with the impact and quickly regained his feet.

The Oriental had drawn a third knife, this time from a sheath hidden under his shirt just below the back of his neck. "For gosh sake!" exclaimed Robin. "Do you get those things at a discount somewhere?"

He abruptly recognized the design of the knife as a throwing weapon and sure enough, the man cocked his arm back and threw it. Robin dived aside, once again just barely avoiding a fall into the open grave.

The Oriental was charging him, drawing a fourth knife from inside his shirt sleeve. Robin snatched a small device from his utility belt and threw it at the man's feet, closing his eyes tightly as he did so.

The tiny flash bomb went off with a sharp bang. The Oriental, blinded by the sudden light, yelled and staggered forward, slashing wildly with his knife. The yell was the first sound he had made since the fight began.

Opening his eyes, Robin easily ducked under the swinging knife and brought an uppercut into the man's jaw, knocking him out.

Robin was breathing rapidly. That had been a little harder than he thought it would be and, to tell the truth, a little bit scary. This guy was a walking knife factory and Robin was grateful he had managed to knock his partner out first thing. Two walking knife factories might have been more than he could have handled.

He grabbed a pair of handcuffs from his belt and bent down to drag the two men together, intending to cuff them to one another. He neither saw nor heard the person who, at that moment, knocked him unconscious…

When he came to, both of the grave robbers, the coffin and the oil lamp were gone. He had a splitting headache and Batman was going to be very angry. Robin wasn't having fun anymore.


	3. Chapter 2

CHAPTER II:

Batman listened to his ward's tale with a grim expression on his face. "Interesting," was all he said when the Boy Wonder had finished.

Robin cleared his throat—even that soft sound echoed across the vast walls and ceiling of the Batcave. "I, um, I suppose I must have dropped my guard when I knocked out the second guy. I know you've taught me…"

"…to never assume the danger has passed until you've double-checked the area. I know you won't make the same mistake again, Robin. I'm just thankful that you learned the lesson without acquiring anything more serious than a bump on the head." He walked to the vast bookshelf which contained hundreds of volumes on crime and criminology. From memory, he immediately pulled the text he wanted and began flipping through it.

"If my memory serves, those knife-men are part of some sort of sect." He found the correct page and began reading. "First appearing in the 12th Century, the Gongmai were a sect of assassins who sold their services only to members of royalty or other important families in Chinese society. They were known as experts with the knife and used knives almost exclusively as weapons."

Robin frowned. "Well, why would guys like that be stealing a policeman's corpse? Could they somwhow be involved with the Joker?"

Batman shook his head. "The Joker's still in Arkham. But the fact that the corpse was one of his victims is too much of a coincidence to ignore." He turned towards the Batmobile. "I'll take a look at the graveyard, then check some contacts in Chinatown, see if I can get a lead."

"Can I come with you?"

"No, you take some aspirin and get some rest. I'll let you know what I find out when I get back." Moments later, Batman's sleek, pitch-black car was tearing out of the cave.

MEANWHILE—IN AFRICA:

Tarzan had heard rumors of strange happenings around the Mount Gorm region for several months and his curiosity had been piqued. But the rumors, consisting of sightings of strange lights occasionally flashing along the mountainside, had seemed to present no immediate threat to either the human or non-human denizens of the jungle. So Tarzan had not investigated immediately.

Even now, he approached the mountain at a leisurely pace, pausing to hunt or to ride for a time with his friend Tantor the elephant.

He was within a few miles of the mountain's base when he heard a fusillade of gunfire and his investigation suddenly became more urgent.

Tarzan took to the trees, moving rapidly from branch to branch towards the sound of the gunfire, which seemed to be coming from the mountain's base. As he neared, the gunfire died away, then began again, only this time sounding more muffled.

The jungle lord came to the edge of the tree line. Looking across fifty yards of open ground, he saw a half-dozen corpses lying among the tangle of rocks at the base of Mount Gorm. The gunfire seemed to be coming from inside the mountain, though Tarzan could see no entrance.

He ran across the open ground and knelt beside one of the corpses. The dead man was an Oriental, dressed in a light-green uniform. He'd been shot in the throat. A pistol was clutched in his right hand. Tarzan moved to the next corpse—this was an Arab, shot in the chest, a rifle lying beside him.

Tarzan quickly scanned the surrounding ground. The acrid smell of gunsmoke masked the scent of any survivors of this skirmish, but faint footprints and an occasional blood stain led him to a concealed entrance in the mountainside. The body of another Arab lay in the entrance, his skull cloven by what Tarzan recognized as the stroke of a heavy blade.

The entrance led to a dark tunnel, from which echoed the cracks of pistols and rifles. Tarzan readied an arrow in his bow and considered his next move. Obviously, two factions were battling one another. Someone's hidden lair, guarded by the Arabs, was being invaded by an opposing force. But Tarzan had no way of knowing if either side was worthy of his help.

He knelt beside the slain Arab at the tunnel entrance and examined the body carefully, searching for clues to shed light on this situation. His eyes quickly focused on a small tattoo on the dead man's left arm. It was a simple tattoo—a hand clutching a dagger with a slightly curved blade. But Tarzan recognized the symbol. He had never seen it before, but he had heard of its existence years ago, when he had briefly worked as an agent for the French government.

This man was a member of the League of Assassins—an organization so ruthless that even the world's most powerful governments spoke of it in frightened whispers.

The gunfire had died down and Tarzan heard several men approaching up the tunnel. The ape man quickly leaped upward, taking cover behind some rocks perched above the tunnel entrance.

Eight Orientals, two of them wounded, came running from the entrance. One of them clutched a metal container about the size of a football. The others carried rifles or pistols. They kept running, heading for the jungle.

Tarzan still held his bow steady, but did not fire. He still did not know enough to take sides.

Two of the Orientals slowed as they neared the tree line, turning to face the entrance with rifles held ready. The other disappeared into the jungle.

A trio of Arabs came running from the entrance. The two remaining Orientals opened fire, killing one of them instantly. The other two ducked behind rocks and returned fire. An Oriental fell. His companion took cover behind a tree and the two factions began trading shots.

Tarzan had grown tired being an observer. It was time to take action.


	4. Chapter 3

CHAPTER III:

Tarzan made a decision. He assumed that the Orientals had taken something from the Assassins' lair. He would find out what it was and then take action to either help or hinder the surviving Orientals as he saw fit.

He moved along the mountainside, careful to remain out of sight, until he was able to sprint unseen back into the jungle. Then he began to trail the escaping Orientals.

He soon realized that he was not alone in his pursuit. A group of six Assassins, who had apparently left their lair by another exit, were moving to cut off the Orientals. Tarzan watched them from a high branch as they moved through foliage. To his mild surprise, he was that they were led by a rather beautiful, dark-haired woman armed with pistol, sword and crossbow.

The jungle lord let them move out of sight, then himself took a path that would move well clear of them and hopefully cut off the Orientals before they did. As he moved, he slung his bow once more over his shoulder. Uncoiling the grass rope from belt, then quickly and expertly tied a noose in the end.

He took up position in front of the approaching Orientals, still hidden in the trees above the jungle floor. A minute later, the six men appeared below him, moving underneath the tree in which he sat. Tarzan let the end of his rope drop, draping the noose around the metal container still being carried by one of the Orientals. Jerking the rope upward, he tore the container from the man's grasp and quickly recoiled the rope. Carrying the container under one arm, he swung off into the jungle. Below him came shouts of dismay and a fusillade of wild shots.

More shots followed, but not this time directed at Tarzan. The Assassins had also caught up with their enemies and the two factions were again locked in battle.

Tarzan paused and examined the container. It was unmarked and he could hear some sort of liquid sloshing around inside. It was slightly warm to the touch. He briefly considered opening it, but had no idea if it was safe. The ape man did not know fear, but he was not reckless.

Then the wind shifted and the scent of still more men came to Tarzan's sensitive nostrils. The scent came from the direction in which the Orientals had been moving. Did they have allies ahead? The sound of gunfire had once again died away-one side or the other had achieved victory.

Tarzan moved towards the new scent. He was beginning to feel a little frustrated. He was gathering a lot of information, but nothing that allowed him to come to any conclusions. He only knew that he did not want the League of Assassins setting up shop in his jungle. But could he consider the Orientals his allies or still another set of enemies?

He came to the edge of a large clearing and paused, momentarily astonished by what he saw. Parked in the center of the clearing was a small zeppelin, about the size of a city bus. The air ship was tied to makeshift moorings and the gondola-large enough for perhaps twenty people-was equipped with two large propellers. Both propellers spun, but Tarzan could barely hear the hum of the engines. Several Orientals stood guard nearby.

Twenty yards to Tarzan's right, two of the men from the group that had stolen the container came running out of the jungle. Gunfire barked from behind them, dropping one of them. The zeppelin's guards fired back. Bullets pinged off the gondola.

A man appeared in the gondola's open hatch, holding an oddly-shaped rifle with a wide barrel. Pointing his weapon at the Assassins' position, he pulled the trigger. The weapon fired with a dull thud and something flew visibly from its barrel. It landed near the clearing edge and exploded, releasing a cloud of thick smoke. Instantly, the gunfire from the Assassins ceased.

It was here that fate took a hand. The wind shifted again and some of the smoke wafted towards Tarzan. The ape man, first assuming it was simply a smoke screen to cover the zeppelin's escape, was not concerned. Only when the sickly smell of the smoke reached his nostrils did he abruptly realize that it was actually some sort of gas.

Holding his breath, he turned to leap further back into the jungle. But it was too late-the one brief breath he had taken allowed the toxin to flood into his bloodstream. Suddenly, the jungle lord's usually perfect balance deserted him. He stumbled and fell, dropping the canister as he landed heavily on the ground. The fall left him dazed and the effects of the gas blurred his vision. He tried to stand, but the jungle seemed to spin around him and he fell again. His ears filled with the pounding of his own blood and everything went dark...

MEANWHILE:

The door to the dark room-located somewhere in New York City-opened and a shadowy form noiselessly entered. The form seemed to blend into the dark as it moved with perfect confidence through the unlit chamber. For a moment, it seemed as if the form had dissolved into the darkness. But then a desk lamp clicked on.

The light formed a small circle atop the desk. Two gloved hands reached into the light. One of the fingers of the right hand was adorned with a ring on which was mounted a bright red jewel.

The hands clutched a trio of envelopes. The first of these was opened. At first, it seemed that the paper inside was blank. But then words gradually faded into view.

"Talk of something mysterious in Chinatown," read the message. "A number of tong members recruited for as yet unknown project. Several have been seen in an abandoned warehouse." The note gave the address of the warehouse. The signature was "Roy Tan."

Roy Tan was an agent of the Shadow, one of a number of such men and women who worked constantly to gather information about the underworld.

The message faded again until the hands once again held a blank paper. This was set aside and the second envelope opened.

Once again, invisible ink gradually became visible. This message read "Brink Durgan and his gang called off bank job. They were visited last night by a Chinese wearing a business suit. Tried to follow Chinese but lost him. Durgan and gang have bought tickets to Gotham City on this evening's train. Intentions unknown." This message was signed "Clyde Burke." Burke was a crime reporter for the New York _Clarion_. He was also an agent of the Shadow.

The third envelope was opened. This one was a message from Cliff Marsland. Marsland was publically known as a gangster and a gunman. Few knew that he was really another of the Shadow's agents.

This message simply informed Marsland that he had returned from a mission of minor importance in Albany and was available if the Shadow needed him.

A soft laugh seemed to fill the room. The Shadow was gathering information. Now it was time to act!


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter IV:

A message was quickly passed on to Cliff Marsland to join up with the Durgan gang if possible and learn what the gangster was up to. Then the Shadow personally went to work.

That evening, a shadow without apparent source appeared on the sidewalk outside the suspicious warehouse. For some minutes, it remained motionless. Across the street, a light shined from one of the warehouse's second story windows.

A soft laugh sounded, then the shadow seemed to melt into the surrounding darkness.

A minute later, it appeared at an alleyway door leading into the warehouse. The soft sound of metal against metal—the workings of lock picks—leaked from the shadow. Then the door opened silently and the shadow slipped inside.

More silence. In an upstairs room, three members of the Gongmai sat around a table. Upon the table sat a sputtering oil lamp. All three men fairly bristled with knife sheaths.

The door to the room slowly creaked open, as if pushed by a breath of air. One of the assassins stood and walked to the door, peering out curiously. There was nothing in the outer hallway but darkness. He shrugged, then turned back into the room. A .45 automatic, clutched in a gloved hand, suddenly appeared out of nowhere and smashed down on the back of the assassin's head.

He collapsed, unconscious. His two companions leaped to their feet, They faced a tall figure in a bellowing black cloak, his lower face covered with a crimson scarf, a pair of automatics held ready in his hands.

He laughed—the sound seemed to cut through the air like a sharp knife through butter. In perfect Mandarin Chinese, he called on the two men to surrender.

One of the men cursed and cocked his arm back to hurl a knife. A .45 barked once and the man stumbled, dropping the knife and clutching his wounded hand.

His companion dived forward, drawing long knives in either hand. The Shadow seemed to glide rather than move aside, dodging the attack as he fired again. His attacker collapsed in a heap.

The remaining conscious man, his face twisted in pain, clawed at another knife sheath with his unwounded hand. The Shadow moved towards him, batting the arm away from the sheath and shoving the man back into a chair.

The Shadow slid his right-hand pistol into his pocket and raised the now empty hand towards the assassin's face. The light from the oil lamp caught the blood-red ruby of the Shadow's ring, flashing a weird light into the Gongmai's eyes.

The man's eyes glazed over almost instantly. His arms dropped to his side as, against his will, he focused his entire attention on the ring.

"You will tell me what I want to know." The words came to him in Chinese and it did not even occur to him to question the latent authority behind them. "You will tell me all you know of this place and of the plans of your Master."

MEANWHILE:

Informants in Chinatown had given Batman a lead on the stolen corpse. It was being transported from Gotham City to New York City. Batman had received no certain information on the means of transportation, but the Gotham Central train seemed the most likely method.

That evening, Bruce Wayne appeared at the Gotham station, purchasing a first class ticket on the Central. A porter showed him to his cabin, but he only stayed inside for a moment before taking a stroll up and down the length of the train.

Checking out the train proved to be a good assumption. It only took Bruce a few minutes to spot his quarry. A man he recognized as Brink Durgan, a small time New York crook, was watching carefully as a trio of porter loaded a large crate into the baggage car. The crate was easily large enough to contain the stolen corpse.

Durgan had five men with him—whoever was taking final delivery of the body was sparing no expense in making sure it was well guarded. Bruce didn't recognize four of the men, but the last he thought was Cliff Marsland, another gangster.

Marsland was an interesting case. He'd done time for embezzlement. Bruce had read about the case and had suspected that Marsland had actually been innocent, but since his release he'd been a freelance criminal, drifting from gang to gang. He was reputed to be a skilled gunman.

The conductor called out "All aboard." Marsland and two other thugs climbed directly into the baggage car. Bruce saw Durgan slip a bill to one of the porters—a small bribe to allow those men to spend the three hour trip with the crate, Bruce assumed. Durgan and his remaining two men entered the smoking car.

Bruce climbed aboard the dinner car. As the train began to chug forward, he began to plan his next move.


	6. Chapter 5

CHAPTER V:

The train pulled out of Gotham, heading through the night towards New York City. In his cabin, Bruce Wayne quickly removed his Batman costume from his suitcase. Donning the mantle of the Bat, he climbed through the open window to the roof of the car.

He made his way back along the train and soon reached the roof of the baggage car. He glanced over the side—there was a window just below him. It was closed, but he could jackknife himself through the glass easily enough. He was positioning himself to make this move when he heard something in the sky above him.

He looked up, surprised to see a gyro-copter similar in design to his own approaching the train. The gyro came suddenly out of the dark night, slowing to hover over the baggage car. Batman glimpsed a man in the pilot's seat, then a rope ladder was tossed over the gyro's side and a second man clad in a billowing dark cloak quickly slid down to the car's roof. The rope ladder was pulled back up and the gyro veered off.

For a moment, the Shadow and the Batman stood atop the swaying roof and watched each other silently. They had never met, but they each heard rumors of the other.

The Shadow spoke first. "There are guards below, guarding the corpse?"

Batman hesitated almost imperceptibly, then nodded. "I have not yet confirmed that the crate contains the corpse."

"It does. I have obtained information from other sources. I believe one of my agents may be with the Durgan gang."

Batman made a quick deductive leap. "Cliff Marsland? He is in this car with two others."

Now it was the Shadow's turn to hesitate for a fraction of a second. He laughed softly. "Very good. The stories I have heard about you do not exaggerate. He gestured down at the car. "The corpse has been stolen by agents of Fu Manchu, a Chinese master criminal of some repute. I do not yet know his purpose or his current location. I located a warehouse that had been a rendezvous for his agents, but the trail ran cold there. I do not yet know why he wants the corpse, but he is known to be a master chemist."

Batman considered this. "He wants the formula for Joker's poison."

"Quite likely. But he has no need to go to all this trouble for still another method of dealing death. I suspect his ultimate purpose is something much deeper."

"The next step, then, is to trail the corpse. That may lead us to Fu Manchu himself.

The Shadow nodded. "I concur. Cliff Marsland is a reliable agent, but I decided to be on hand personally as well." He paused, then said "We shall work together."

Batman was a little disturbed at the Shadow's commanding tone, but let that pass for the moment. "Very well," he said.

MEANWHILE:

Tarzan of the Apes slowly regained consciousness. His head felt as if it was stuffed with cotton and he could see nothing in the pitch dark. The air was filled with the scent of people, gunpowder and motor oil. His hands were tied behind his back. There was the rumble of an engine and the metal floor upon which he lay vibrated slightly.

He was almost certainly aboard the small zeppelin, perhaps locked in a small storage area. He sat still for several minutes until his head cleared. There was a door nearby and a small amount of light seeped beneath it. As the ape man's eyes adjusted to this tiny bit of illumination, he made out the dimensions of his prison.

The room was only about four feet square. Tarzan had been jammed inside with another prisoner. From her scent, Tarzan recognized her as the dark-haired woman who had led some of the Assassins in their pursuit of the Oriental attackers.

By now, Tarzan's strength was flowing back into his body. He was bound with ropes, but it only took a few minutes strain to part the strands and free his arms. He stood and examined the door. The lock was strong, but nothing he could not break. It was not something he could accomplish quietly, though.

He wished he had more information. How long had he been unconscious? Where was the zeppelin now? What was its destination?

But he did not know the answers to these questions and, typically, he ceased to worry about them for the time being. It was time to make a decision.


	7. Chapter 6

CHAPTER VI:

It took only a few seconds for Tarzan to snap the rope binding the girl's hands. He then knelt beside her and gently slapped her cheeks until she groaned and regained consciousness.

She sat up and immediately asked "Who's there?"

She spoke in Arabic and he replied in the same language. "I am Tarzan of the Apes."

She paused, then said "I have heard of you, of course. I did not know you were in this part of the jungle."

"I don't believe either of us is in jungle at all at the moment. We've been taken prisoner aboard the zeppelin." He paused, letting her hear the thrum of the engine and the vibration of the deck plates. He then asked "Who are you?"

"My name is Talia." She offered no more details and Tarzan immediately sensed that no further information would be forthcoming.

"What was in the container your attackers stole?"

"Something that does not belong to them," was all she would say to that.

Leaving the subject for the moment, Tarzan moved to the door and once again examined it by feel. "There is an exit here. I can have us out of here in moments."

"But if we are airborne," replied Talia, "what good does escaping this room do us?"

Tarzan shrugged. "We can't know until we try. Perhaps there are parachutes on board."

Still, she raised a good point. It was time to make another decision.

MEANWHILE:

The train pulled into New York at 3 AM. The Durgan gang took possession of the crate and carried it to a waiting truck, turning it over to a trio of muscular Chinese. The Durgan gang then left the scene, there part of the job done for the moment. The Shadow knew that Cliff Marsland would report in to Burbank soon. The Shadow had already stopped briefly at a phone booth, calling in instructions to Burbank. Marsland would be instructed to stick with Durgan for the moment, in case Fu Manchu were to use the gangster and his small mob for any more jobs.

Meanwhile, the two masked avengers of crime climbed into a sleek roadster that the Shadow had arranged to be parked near the station. They followed the truck as it drove a dozen blocks to yet another warehouse. The truck parked near the rear loading ramp and the three Chinese carried the crate inside.

For the moment at least, the Gotham vigilante was allowing the Shadow to take the lead in their investigation. That left the decision on how to next proceed in the Shadow's hands.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter VII:

Tarzan snapped the lock of the door with one swift shove. He and Talia found themselves on a narrow walkway that apparently ran along the center of the zeppelin itself. Large gas bags ran along the both sides.

At one end of the walkway, about thirty feet away, stood a Chinese with a holstered pistol. Seeing the prisoners emerge from the cell, he stood amazed for several seconds before clawing at his holster and opening his mouth to shout.

The brief delay was all the Lord of the Jungle needed to leap across the intervening distance. He slammed into the guard, knocking him to the deck. A swift blow rendered the guard unconscious.

Tarzan recovered the pistol and handed it back to Talia. There was a ladder leading down into the gondola just beyond the spot where the guard had stood. Tarzan carefully peered down this. No one was in sight.

"I'll go down first," he told the girl. "Wait a few seconds, then follow."

The ape man slid down the ladder. Just as his feet touched the deck, someone shouted. A corridor, flanked by a number of doors on either side, led along the gondola and opened on the control room. It was someone standing in the control room door that had shouted.

Talia leaped down the ladder after Tarzan, landing cat-like beside him. Her pistol barked once and the man in the door was slammed backwards by the impact of the heavy bullet. Tarzan charged down the corridor, leaping into the control room. There were five men there. Tarzan grabbed the nearest man, then threw him into another. Both men smashed through the gondola's front window.

Tarzan glanced out the shattered glass and saw that the zeppelin was now over the ocean, heading west. No land was in sight.

A man charged him, stabbing with a knife. Tarzan caught the knife arm and wrenched the weapon away from its owner. He lashed out with his fist, knocking the man out.

Behind him came a fusillade of bullets. Talia backed into the control room, firing down the corridor. Return fire flew past her, ricocheting dangerously around the room. The man at the helm was hit, slumping down over the wheel.

Tarzan plunged his newly acquired knife into the chest of the last man. He quickly examined the control room. There was a row of parachutes hanging from one of the bulkheads.

The firing from the corridor ceased and someone called out in a soft, cultured voice. "There is nowhere to run. Surrender."

"Many of you will die before we do," shouted Talia. Her face was calm, showing no sign of fear or worry.

"Perhaps. But you will die for a certainty. We still prefer to take you to our master alive. Surrender now and give yourself another few days of life."

Talia looked questioningly at Tarzan. "Only one round left," she whispered, holding up the pistol. The ape man had to make a quick decision.

MEANWHILE:

The two dark vigilantes found a rear door and the Shadow quickly picked the lock. The door opened quietly. Before entering, the Shadow drew one of his automatics and offered it to Batman.

The Dark Knight shook his head. "I don't use guns," he said.

The Shadow shrugged slightly, an almost imperceptible gesture. "That's all right. I do."

They entered the warehouse side by side. A dark hallway stretched out before them, quickly branching off. One route led up a staircase. The other continued straight, running deeper into the warehouse's ground floor. In either case, it was too dark to see to farther than fifteen feet. There was no immediate indication of which route would be the more productive one.


	9. Chapter 8

CHAPTER VIII:

Tarzan stepped to one side of the door, clutching his knife in his fist. Talia stood on the other side. The ape man signaled her to keep quiet.

"Well?" came the voice from down the hall. "Do you surrender?"

Tarzan and Talia both remained silent.

A minute later, the voice called out again-this time with a hint of impatience seeping into his tone. "I will give you no more time! Surrender now or die!"

Still the two former prisoners did not make a sound.

The voice snapped out several words in Mandarin Chinese. Talia, who evidently understood, held up two fingers. Two men had been ordered forward.

The men moved up quietly, but Tarzan's sharp ears heard the soft pad of feet on the deck and he also picked up their scent. The two paused just outside the door, then leaped together into the control room.

Neither had time to react as Tarzan plunged his knife into the chest of one man and Talia brained the second with the butt of her pistol. They quickly dragged the bodies out of the door way. Both of them appropriated pistols from their erstwhile attackers. The ape man normally distained firearms, but would not hesitate to make use of one if the situation called for it.

A barrage of pistol fire came from down the corridor-no more than three guns. Tarzan sensed they were noticeably cutting into the crew's numbers.

Then disaster! A stray shot his the control panel, near the zeppelin's helm. The wheel spun of its own accord and the zeppelin suddenly lurched downward and to the right.

Both Tarzan and Talia were flung against the bulkhead. From the corridor came shouts of panic from the remaining crew. The ape man regained his balance and looked out one of the shattered windows. The zeppelin was heading down towards the open ocean at a 45 degree angle and Tarzan sensed that there was nothing he could do to stop it...

MEANWHILE:

The two vigilantes decided to split up. Batman watched the Shadow melt into the darkness of the hallway, then he himself turned towards the stairs. He moved carefully, his eyes darting around in a pattern that allowed him to take in everything around him. He placed each foot carefully, aware of the possibility of booby traps.

The stairs ended at the start of a second floor passage. Like the hallway below, it was masked in thick darkness. Batman continued to move slowly, carefully, quietly.

Suddenly, the sound of a single shot-a .45 automatic-sounded from below. The Shadow's gun, most likely. The New York-based crimefighter had encountered something.

Batman thought quickly. The Shadow was more than capable of taking care of himself in most situations, but Batman knew Fu Manchu's deadly reputation. Even someone as formidable as the Shadow might run into more danger than he could handle. Should he return to the ground floor to help the Shadow, or should he continue searching the upper floor?


	10. Chapter 9

CHAPTER IX:

The Batman paused momentarily, then continued on. The Shadow could be trusted to take care of himself.

He continued several more steps down the dark 2nd-floor corridor. Then, as his right foot pressed down on the floor, he felt the floor give just slightly.

He leaped backwards as a trap door opened beneath him-just barely landing safely on the edge. He looked down the trap. He could see nothing, but could hear the soft lap of water and the occasional splash of something living moving around in it.

Something charged up behind him, not quite silent enough to catch him by surprise. He spun and shifted to one side. A Gongmai knife-man lunged past him, arms flailing as he stumbled over the edge of the trap. Batman reached out to grab him, but the man reacted to the act of mercy by slashing with a long dagger even as he fell, preventing the Dark Knight from catching hold of him. The Gongmai did not scream as he fell, but something thrashing in the water after he landed did elicit a horrified screech.

Two more Gongmai charged down the corridor. His back to the trap, Batman met them with a counter charge. Fighting as much by instinct in the near-pitch dark as by sight, he ducked under a knife slash and caught one of the killers with a sharp uppercut that laid him out unconscious. Batman spun, using the edge of his cape to distract the second Gongmai, then spun a second time, planting his foot alongside the assassin's head.

Batman saw a sliver of light along the wall back the way he had come-a hidden door he'd missed. He charged towards it, hitting it with his shoulder and bursting into a room lit by flickering torches along the wall. The room was perhaps twenty-by-twenty feet, with another door directly opposite. There was also another open trap in the door, this one with a ladder leading down into the dark.

The only other occupant was a white Siberian tiger, who crouched low as Batman entered and growled menacingly...


	11. Chapter 10

CHAPTER X

Batman watched carefully as the tiger growled again and took a step towards him. Snatching a smoke pellet from his utility belt, Batman threw it to the floor in front of the predator.

The pellet burst open and spewed out a stream of thick black smoke. Startled, the tiger roared in anger and jumped back. Batman used the opportunity to leap towards the trap door, grab hold of the ladder and slid down to the floor below.

A steel door immediately slid shut over him. He was in yet another room, this one fairly small and lit by a single oil lamp. A door was in front of him. He tried the latch-it was locked. He reached for his lock pick.

He heard a soft scurrying noise behind him. Spinning around, he saw dozens of large scorpions swarming out from a small slot set in the opposite wall.

No time for lock picks now. Batman kicked the door, smashing it open, then leapt into the next room just ahead of the swarming scorpions.

Amazingly, the scorpions paused at the door and did not leave the small room.

"A special chemical coats the floor along the doorway." The voice was cultured, but somehow managed to drip with evil. "A convenient way of keeping my pets in their place."

Batman turned. He was in a large room decorated with tapestries and sculptures of Chinese origin. At the opposite side of the room, a tall Chinese man sat in an ornate chair atop a dais. A spider monkey sat atop his shoulder.

The sides of the room were hidden in dark shadows. No one else was visible.

"Fu Manchu, I presume," said Batman.

The man nodded slightly. "You have been causing some confusion since you and your companion entered my home. I will no longer allow that."

Batman smiled grimly. "Once I start to 'cause confusion,' I'm hard to stop."

Fu also smiled. "We have not crossed paths before. I assure you, sir, you have never encountered an opponent quite like me before." He waved one hand almost imperceptibly. "Your ally has already plunged to his doom in one of my traps. You, I'm afraid, will suffer a much more mundane fate."

Half a dozen men suddenly charged out of the shadows, each wielding a large, curve-bladed sword.


	12. Chapter 11

CHAPTER XI

Batman dodged a sword stroke, leaped away from the closest attacker, and slammed a hard right cross into the chin of another. Too many to fight, he thought as he backed towards the shadows. He would need to find a way to retreat and regroup.

Suddenly, the situation changed as an eerie laugh filled the room. The swordsmen froze at the sound and even the implacable Fu Manchu looked quickly around the room in evident surprise.

The laugh filled the room. It seemed to come from every direction at once, reverberating along the walls. To each of the swordsmen, it felt as if the laugh actually pierced physically into them and scraped like sandpaper up and down their spines.

Then, after what seemed like an eternity but was only a few seconds, the laugh died away. "The weed of crime bears bitter fruit!" came the voice of the Shadow. "It was one of your minions who fell into your trap, evil one. The Shadow still lives. And while he lives, evil will die!"

A pair of .45 automatics began to bark, sending a hail of bullets into the swordsmen. Batman reacted without hesitation to the new situation, charging towards Fu Manchu.

The evil warlord pressed a button on his chair arm. A cloud of thick smoke bellowed up around him. Holding his breath, Batman dived into the smoke without hesitation.

But he found the chair empty. Fu Manchu had vanished.

MEANWHILE:

In a secret laboratory far below the warehouse's ground floor, Tarzan continued to pull at a particular link in the chain that held him. The chain was attached at one end to a metal band locked around his waist-and the other end sunk into the wall. He and Talia had been here for nearly a day, each chained to the wall of the lab, about twenty feet away from each other. They had been picked up unconscious from the wreckage of the zeppelin by a yacht filled with Fu Manchu's men. Apparently, the zeppelin had been about to rendezvous with the yacht just before Tarzan's escape attempt had caused it to crash.

Unfortunately, the container holding whatever had been stolen from the League of Assassins stronghold had also been recovered.

Tarzan had seen enough when they were brought here to know he was in New York City, but he had no idea of his location beyond that. He and Talia were unable to talk without being overheard by the several Oriental lab technicians who worked seemingly around the clock.

But Tarzan had noted that one link of the chain that held him was slightly rusted. Working surreptitiously, he had been pulling at this link, stretching it out. He felt sure that it was ready to give. One more burst of strength would set him free.

In the meantime, a half-dozen technicians were working at the tables of chemical apparatus with increasing fervor. They had removed a thick, glowing liquid from the container and were combining samples of it with a number of other chemicals.

Tarzan and Talia watched as they worked. Animals kept in cages along the same wall, containing everything from rabbits to rats to snakes to one large cage next to Talia containing a 15-foot crocodile, also watched with almost human curiosity.

Just then, Fu Manchu himself came hurrying into the wall. Tarzan had only seen him once-the evil mastermind had inspected his prisoners upon their arrival, then simply said they would be dealt with later.

Fu Manchu called to his technicians, barking orders in Mandarin Chinese. One of the technicians seemed to try to argue, but the warlord cut him off with a few sharp words.

Another of the technicians removed the stopper from a flask of glowing liquid and handed it to his leader. Once again, the first technician seemed to raise some sort of objection, but was ignored. Fu Manhu raised it to his lips.

"Stop!" called out Talia in English. "The waters of the Lazarus Pit will kill you or drive you mad if not used properly."

Fu Manchu laughed. "Foolish woman! Do not underestimate the genius of Fu Manchu! Your father uses painful emersion in the Lazarus Pit to ensure immortality and sometimes even to return life to his body after it has fled. But I have modified the chemical makeup of the fluid. By combining it with the poison used by the madman called the Joker, it can now be ingested. Then I will have not just true unending immortality, but I will be the most powerful being on the planet. I will be immune to aging. Physical damage will heal instantly. And my very touch-nay, my very breath-will mean death to any who oppose me!" He pointed a long finger at Talia. "But I see no need to allow anyone who opposes me to witness my ascension into godhood." He barked an order in Chinese. One of the technicians walked to the crocodile cage and pressed a button on the wall. The side of the cage nearest Talia slid down and the crocodile immediately stalked out and moved towards her. It too was chained to the wall, but there was more than enough slack to allow it to reach the helpless girl.

Fu Manchu laughed and began to lift the flask to his lips...


	13. Chapter 12

CHAPTER XII

Tarzan pulled suddenly at his chain, snapping the weakened link. With one last glance at Fu Manchu—the madman was even now beginning to drink the potion—he leaped over the helpless Talia and landing on the back of the crocodile.

He had about three feet of chain still extending from his waist band. Grasping this in both hands, he looped it around the crocodile's upper jaw. Seated on the monster's back, he hauled the chain upwards.

The croc roared, but its anatomy prevented it from bucking hard enough to unseat the ape man. Apparently not understanding what was attacking it, it continued its inexorable march towards Talia.

Across the room, two figures dressed in black burst through a door. Several of the technicians produced revolvers and opened fire on these newcomers. One of them, dressed in a bat suit, ducked under the fusillade, rolled, and came back to his feet in front of a technician. He delivered a sharp uppercut, knocking his attacker unconscious.

The second intruder ducked behind a table and returned fire, quickly dropping two of the technicians.

This was all Tarzan saw of the battle before he was forced to focus his attention completely on his own fight. He lifted backwards, straining with all his considerable muscle, forcing the crocodile to slow, forcing its upper jaw backwards.

Suddenly, there was a loud snap as the croc's jaw dislocated. The monster staggered, then its legs gave out and it collapsed onto its belly.

Tarzan leaped off the wounded creature and grabbed hold of Talia's chain. Placing one foot against the wall, he hauled. For several seconds, nothing seemed to happen. Then the chain's end snapped free from the wall.

Talia reacted instantly, diving across the room to snatch up a fallen pistol. She raised the weapon and fired in one smooth motion, killing one of the remaining technicians.

For a moment, the lab grew quiet. Only one technician was still alive and conscious. He stood near his master, the criminal genius Fu Manchu.

The mastermind's face was twisted in agony. He doubled over in pain, groaning loudly. Then his body seemed to grow slightly, becoming taller and more muscular. He also began to glow with an eerie red light.

Then he screamed, the sound reverberating around the room and causing the various caged animals to begin to chatter and screech in fear. Fu Manchu's right arm shot out, clutching his technician by the throat.

Then the technician began to melt. As the still-screaming Fu Manchu held him, his flesh liquefied and dropped off his body. In moments, only his bones remained. Then they too crumbled into dust.

Fu Manchu did not stop screaming. He took a few stumbling steps, then seemed to focus his attention on the ape man, who was closest to him. He reached out for him.

The Shadow's automatics blazed away as he fired his last few remaining rounds into the criminal. Fu Manchu jerked under the impact of the bullet, but otherwise seemed unaffected. He continued to scream, a sound of utter agony that none of those present had ever heard before.

Tarzan, sensing that direct contact with the criminal would mean instant death, jumped away and once again put his incredible strength to work. He picked up the wounded crocodile and charged Fu Manchu while using the half-ton animal as a battering ram.

The impact knocked Fu Manchu from his feet. The crocodile's body immediately began to disintegrate. Tarzan dropped it, picked up a table and slammed that down on the screaming killer as well.

Fu Manchu simply tore the table into kindling with one wrench of his hands and climbed back to his feet. He had finally stopped screaming.

"Pain!" he shouted. "Too much pain!" He seemed to have forgotten that he had been trying to kill Tarzan as he backed away, his eyes darting back and forth as if seeking some sort of escape from his agony.

The glow emitting from his body had intensified. Incredibly, the floor beneath his feet began to smoke.

Batman snapped a batarang from his utility belt and quickly attached a rope to one end. Throwing the weapon with a particular flick of his wrist, he looped the rope around Fu Manchu's ankles. Then he yanked, sending Fu Manchu falling back to the floor.

The glow grew brighter and an intense heat could now be felt coming from the master criminal's body. As he landed full length on the floor, he began to burn through. The wooden slats of the floor burst into flames and Fu Manchu's body began to sink into the rapidly melting ground beneath the warehouse. He began to scream again.

The flames spread quickly and thick fumes began to bellow out as various spilled chemicals were caught in the conflagration. Talia and the three men turned and ran from the room. Tarzan was the last one out, casting a regretful look back at the caged animals. He would have saved them if he could, but the fire was spreading too fast and the fumes were undoubtedly poisonous.

The four of them reached the ground floor in seconds, but the flames were right behind them. Batman paused, motioning the others to move past him. He then tossed a pellet from his belt into the flames. Fire retardant fluid slowed the spread slightly, allowing Talia, The Shadow, Tarzan and the Dark Knight to reach an exit safely with seconds to spare.

They moved away from the warehouse, standing in a darkened alley, watching as the building was completely engulfed in flames.

"How deep will he sink?" wondered Talia aloud.

"Hopefully, he won't stop until he reaches his homeland," replied Tarzan with a slight smile.

He turned to speak to the two other men, but to his surprise, both had vanished into the night. Not even the ape man's sharp ears had heard them leave.

The wail of approaching fire engines were soon heard approaching. The threat of Fu Manchu's latest scheme for world domination had ended.

THE END


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